


At Least Yours...

by ammyamarant



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, because surfacage hurts us all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 02:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammyamarant/pseuds/ammyamarant
Summary: Surfacage's Bad End: https://twitter.com/surfacage/status/1189895370320404480One step too slow.





	At Least Yours...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the first and I doubt the last person to be hurt by Surfi. As you can probably tell from my library that I love angst, and this hit all the good spots. See the amazing art here with a very sad thread about how G'raha copes.  
https://twitter.com/surfacage/status/1189895370320404480

"So you're part of the A tribe?"

The Warrior of Light jolted at G'raha's voice. "I-"

It was cute, G'raha decided, as the Miqo'te beside him struggled for words. Ammy had always been the silent warrior leading the way, and on the occasions he was forced to speak, his voice was unsure. More comfortable with actions. With battle. He supposed he could relate, G'raha thought as Ammy played with the end of his blood red braid, the length of hair longer than G'raha would ever tolerate. He had been more at home with books than people. But around Ammy... he found his words coming far easier than before.

"Yes," Ammy finally said, the tremor in his voice speaking the lie. "The- The A tribe."

Had he been kicked out? Why was Ammy lying about that? G'raha leaned closer to him, the heat of Ammy's body almost distracting him before opening his mouth-

  


* * *

  


He cursed his body. A moment of weariness at the wrong moment, the strain of being so far from the Crystal Tower for so long pulling at him. It dragged at his footsteps as he rushed to Mt. Gulg, hoping to catch Ammy before the final blow, before absorbing the final Lightwarden's aether. He had a part to play, after all. He had to put on the mantle of a villain, and force Ammy, nay, everyone to hate him. Make everyone feel no guilt for his death as he took the Light to the rift. As he-

His footsteps echoed as he ran.

  


* * *

  


Ammy had not been of the A tribe.

For some reason, that's the only thing that stuck in his head as G'raha put aside another memoir, the sounds of fighting, doom, the Eighth Umbral Calamity echoed outside the doors. It shouldn't have been. That wasn't what he was looking for. But now, years after the Warrior of Light's death, lifetimes after sealing himself into the Crystal Tower and falling into a deep sleep, he found himself clinging to any scraps of knowledge about a man he had barely known. He knew in these tellings and retellings of a hero of eld would be romanticized, exaggerated, but having known this same Warrior of Light he believed all of it.

And so, when he should be looking for a way to bring back the Warrior of Light, to find how to reverse the Calamity, he found himself latching to words that reminded him of brown hands, so capable of bringing pain and healing. He found himself imagining when Ammy first picked up a gun, his hands wrapped around the handle as he considered the weapon. Of his face, growing more somber, as he lost more and more of his friends.

If only he could have been there. If only he had been a part of his adventures. If only he could have _helped._

He would. This time.

  


* * *

  


He had barely gotten halfway up Mt. Gulg before the sky grew dark. Hope filled him, hope that perhaps Ammy did it. Absorbed the Light safely.

Then Light filled the sky again and his stomach sank.

He had to get there. Before- before he was too late again to save his Warrior.

  


* * *

  


Ammy was more confident now, he noticed. His words didn't tremble as much as he spoke. The Warrior of Darkness still preferred to keep to his own company, but he could see how he had grown into his role. The thought ached inside G'raha's chest, at how he had missed watching Ammy.

Now, Ammy was talking to the Crystal Exarch, not to him, not to G'raha Tia, and his words flowed more confidently as they overlooked the rest of Kholusia. "My ma," he was saying, laughing a little, "she would always tell me, 'Ahmy'a, you're going to get yourself in trouble you can't get out of' whenever I do something like that. She hated it when I would wander away-"

G'raha's ears twitched under the thick hood, and not for the first time he found himself thankful for picking a fabric that barely moved with the flick of his ears. "'Ahmy'a?"

The Warrior of Darkness coloured. "Mystal on the Source, well, we're called Miqo'te, we have names based on race and all sorts of things." Ammy paused, growing more red. "But you're from the Source too, so you already know that. Anyway. Ma found me when I was this big," he said, holding his hand barely a fulm off the ground. "And despite being a Seeker - ah, that a Miqo'te race." His words started to lose the confidence as before, achingly showing the Ammy he had known before. "Well, despite me being a Seeker of the Sun and Ma being a Keeper of the Moon, she took me in. And since I was her first kitten, I was Ahmy'a. When I struck out on my own people kept butchering my name since I'm supposed to be a Seeker and well... I _thought_ I took a Seeker name."

His true name had never been recorded. Something precious was within G'raha's grasp. Something beautiful.

But it was not within the Exarch's grasp.

"Ahmy'a. Tis a nice name."

  


* * *

  


Ammy. Ahmy'a. His Warrior of Light, of _Darkness._

Was standing slowly, the Light still wreathing his body. Hope eternal, hope that he had fought the Light and won, rose within him, quickly dashed as his friends, the other Warriors, turned their weapons on him. The Miqo'te sorceress, Y'shtola, already had aether flowing for a spell as the young Elezen twins readied themselves for battle. He ran faster, hoping to get there before anything else happened. Hoping he could still play his part-!

Ammy's eyes opened to pure white as an aetheric gun materialized in his hand, aiming straight at his friends, a blast of aetheric wind hitting them full on.

No. If he was just a little faster, he could still!

His staff hit the ground as exhausted fingers loosened, his own legs no longer keeping his weight. He had been too long, too far away from the Crystal Tower. And in the precious moments it took to stand again, the newly born Lightwarden fell. Slain by his own friends' hands.

Ammy still retained his form, G'raha thought distantly as he limped past. The blast had knocked his hood off, leaving his identity bare to the world. But it didn't matter. Maybe now, maybe even still! He could play his part. Slowly, G'raha reached out, touching Ammy's face.

"Knew it... was you... Raha..."

The intimate way he said his name, never said as such before that moment, pulled further at his heart. "Don't speak, Ahmy'a," he said softly, reaching for the spell to take the Light. If he could do this, his friends could save his life. G'raha knew he was building more and more lies, unwilling to accept what was happening before him, but there was hope. There had to be hope. He took the Warrior into his arms, begging to the Twelve it would work. To Hydaelyn. To anyone that would listen.

  


* * *

  


They say a spirit haunts the halls of the Crystal Tower. It can be heard wailing as one walks the eerily silent halls.

They say it's only the Crystal Exarch, the skin showing under his cowl marred by crystal tears.

They say the way the Crystal Exarch fought for the future of Norvrandt, leaving the Crystal Tower with fury wreathing his steps, was for love.

They say he fought like a man possessed. No, they whisper, he was a man possessed.

They say.

That the Warrior of Darkness lives.

But they lie.

Because G'raha knows the thing with his face is not Ammy, not his Ahmy'a. But a thing. Built from guilt, need, _love_...

They call him tempered, by the primal known as Ammy.


End file.
